Here's a new story! Don't worry I am still updating my Dust In The Wind fic but I had to get this one out. It was actually a dream I had and it kept bugging me so I wrote it in to a story. It won't be long, only five chapters, and the chapters aren't that long either. Hope ya'll enjoy!

This story takes place during Season 8 after the mid-season finale.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dean or Sam, unfortunately, nor do I own any of the other Supernatural characters.

Dean pulls into the hotel parking lot, shutting off the Impala. Sam stirs in his sleep and looks around to see where they are. He notices the hotel sign and rubs at his eyes before looking over at his brother.

"I'm gonna go get a room," Dean announces without looking at his brother. Dean exits the car and makes his way to the check-in desk. Sam sighs. Ever since they had to deal with Benny down in Louisiana, their relationship has been frayed even more. Sam was pissed Dean didn't go after Benny. Dean was pissed Sam wouldn't listen to him. Sam's mind wanders to their fight in the hotel room with Martin. Dean all but said he didn't trust him still. Sam thought they had fixed that; that everything was better. Not like it used to be before Ruby but better than after her. The Impala's door opens and Dean climbs back in to the front seat, starting up the Impala and driving over to one of the rooms. Sam climbs out of the car, following his brother to the trunk where they each grab their bags and walk over to the room door. Dean unlocks the door and they enter the room, setting their bags at their respective beds. Sam looks up when he hears Dean open the door again.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks, watching his brother begin to walk out the room.

"Out," says Dean, shutting the door behind him. Sam hears the Impala start up and knows Dean is going to a bar and he doesn't blame him. Hell, if Dean hadn't gone off first, he'd probably be heading there himself. Things are strained and they both know it. Fact is he isn't sure what is going on with their relationship and truthfully, he isn't so sure he wants to find out. Sam sighs and grabs his clothes, fully intent on taking a long hot shower.

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Sam sighs, rubbing his eyes. He has been looking for another job for hours but hasn't found anything close by. He looks at the clock on his laptop and realizes that it is three o'clock in the morning. Dean should've been home by now; the bars close at two. He stands up from his computer and walks over to the window, looking outside but doesn't see the Impala anywhere. He probly went home with some girl he met at the bar Sam thinks to himself, telling himself not to worry. Sam gets dressed in his pajamas and climbs into bed, after shutting down his computer. Sam lies down and closes his eyes, it only taking him a few minutes before falling asleep.

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Sam blinks his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He scrunches his eyes; something is off. He listens for a moment before realizing he doesn't hear his brother sleeping in the bed next to him. Sam turns his head, his suspicions proven right. Sam's gaze moves to the clock on the nightstand and his eyes grow wide. Ten-thirty?! Sam sits up in bed, realizing Dean must've went out for breakfast. He hopes Dean went out for breakfast, he thinks, as his stomach grumbles. Suddenly, he stops thinking, his mind backtracking to a few moments before. His head whips to the bed next to him; the bed is made. Dean never makes his bed, which means, he never came home. Sam feels the worry begin to build. He grabs his phone on the nightstand and dials his brothers' number only to hear the voicemail pick up. He can't prove it but he knew something was wrong. Sam scurries out of bed and quickly gets changed. Putting on his sneakers and coat, he grabs the room key and heads out the door. He would stop by every bar he came across and look for his brother.

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Dean slowly comes to. The first thing he realizes is his head is killing him. He reaches up to feel for what could be causing the throbbing but realizes his hands are tied behind his back. He opens his eyes, squinting at the bright light above him, letting out a groan. Yup, definitely a concussion. Dean tries again to open his eyes, not even realizing he had shut them. He looks around him, noticing he's in some sort of room. He doesn't notice any windows but there is a door across the way. He looks behind him seeing he's tied to a pole; he tries to loosen the rope but to no avail. Dean sighs and leans his head against the pole behind him, trying to remember how he got in this predicament. He remembers going to the bar and drinking. He and Sam hadn't been getting along at all since the whole Benny thing and the tension was so high he couldn't stand being in the same room as Sam. He scolds himself for trailing off course and focuses back on how he got here. He remembers paying the bill and walking out to the Impala, but… Oh yeah. Something hit me in the back of the head when I got to the car. Dean thinks to himself, remembering trying to unlock the door but only feeling a blinding pain in the back of his head. Dean looks up, hearing footsteps approach the room. The door across from him opens and a man in his forties with scraggly brown hair walks in, shutting the door behind him. He looks over at Dean, seeing him awake.

"Oh, good you're up," he says smiling. Dean feels a chill run down his spine.

"Who are you?" Dean asks, eyeing the man warily.

"That doesn't matter," the man says, shrugging off the question, "What matters is what I am going to do to you."

"Awesome, I had to get taken by some psycho hillbilly freak," Dean mutters to himself, glaring at the man in front of him.

"We're gonna play a little game," the guy says calmly, studying Dean.

"Sorry, but unless you're a woman I don't play games," Dean says, trying to undo his bonds once more.

"Don't worry, we'll have fun," the guy says, giving Dean another smile. Come on Sammy. Tell me you're looking for me, Dean thinks but isn't sure if his brother really would be looking for him at this point. Dean hears clanking and he looks up to see the man opening a box. Where the hell'd that come from? Dean watches as the man pulls out an assortment of tools and lays them on a table in front of him. The man picks up a knife and stares at it before turning to face him.

"How do you play the game?" Dean asks, keeping his eyes on the man and the knife in his hands, trying to stall the guy so he can get himself untied.

"Oh, it's easy. I find ways to try to break you and you try not to break," the man says smiling as he studies the knife in his hands. Son of a Bitch. Sammy you better be looking for me.

Please review and let me know what ya'll think!